


Reds and Blues

by duesternis



Category: Akira - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Codependency, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Fist Fight, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Swearing, Vomiting, abusive language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-07 06:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13428669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duesternis/pseuds/duesternis
Summary: The mattress under his ass is dirty and cold, the blanket slides filthy against his sweaty skin, but he barely feels the edges of his body.He’s all mind, all memory, all feeling.-- Second chances come at a price.





	Reds and Blues

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I've never in my life taken drugs and I know jack-shit about them besides that they're bad for you. I made everything up regarding the drug abuse.
> 
> tell me if you need something else tagged, i'll gladly do it.

He can’t really remember what they did together as kids.  
Over time (and drugs) it has become a haze of sticky summer afternoons, scraped knees and the sound of water running through the canals.

They might have built boats to float along the quick water.  
They might have sat there, eating ice cream and dangling their little, stubby legs over the edge.  
They might have run through alleys, sun tinting the sky bright hues of pink and orange, laughing and shouting.

He doesn’t know, though.  
He can’t trust the memories bubbling and popping against the inside of his skull, but he cherishes them nonetheless, treasured jewels he touches with shaking, awed fingers.  
Tetsuo tilts his head back and stares sightless against the naked wall.  
The mattress under his ass is dirty and cold, the blanket slides filthy against his sweaty skin, but he barely feels the edges of his body.  
He’s all mind, all memory, all feeling.

The rest is muted, humming faintly somewhere to the left. He knows that it’s just waiting for him to get in reach, to wrap him in concrete and ice and break him open.  
His hand reaches for something he can’t see yet, fingers blue and red and silver, and breath clouding the room in a thick orange.  
Tetsuo gasps and his heart jolts, skin suddenly wet with sweat and limbs shaking apart.

He claws at his chest, wants to leave his body, leave it all behind and just stop.  
A whimper shivers from his lips and he isn’t sure if it’s raining or if he’s crying.  
"Kaneda....“

 

Kaneda sees him at the station, sitting on the stairs. His hair looks matted and unwashed, his feet are bare, even though it’s barely still summer.  
"Tetsuo!“  
Traffic carries him away, but Kaneda swerves, tires screeching and abuses the honk to get over the pavement and to the bottom of the wide stairs.

There’s litter caught in the corners and Tetsuo looks like part of it.  
If he would sit there any longer someone would just spray him along with the concrete banister.  
Kaneda revs the engine and ignores the angry shouts from business men and stay-at-home-moms.  
"Tetsuo!“

The familiar face lifts in slow motion and Kaneda isn’t sure if he should jerk back or laugh.  
Tetsuo looks like shit. Even worse than in the first split-second, dark eyes vacant and unblinking, cheeks hollow and skin grey.  
Like a fucking zombie, from one of the movies Tetsuo liked so much. Back when they had been kids.  
Kaneda puts both feet on the tarmac and stares, engine still running.

Tetsuo closes his thin fingers into fists and licks his cracked lips. He’s staring at the bike, eyes glassy.  
"Kaneda?“  
It feels like a few hundred volts directly to the chest.  
That hoarse voice, still so awfully familiar.

"Yeah, who else could it be, jerk? Get up and hop on.“  
Kaneda jerks his head at the passenger seat behind himself and scoffs through a grin, scared of his own idea, too proud to show it.  
Tetsuo looks at his own feet, scabbed and dirty, broken nails.  
Looks at Kaneda’s bike again and finally at Kaneda.  
His eyes are still glassy, but not as vacant anymore, almost present.

Slowly, carefully he stands and runs a finger over the red, glossy finish of the bike. Presses his palm to it and wheezes.  
"Pretty...“  
"You should see her running. Hop on. Don’t want the pigs coming and take her away.“  
Tetsuo laughs sharply and a rush of energy seems to catapult him into the seat behind Kaneda.  
His arms are terribly thin where they wrap around Kaneda’s waist.

"Hold on“, he says unnecessarily and takes them to the road again, blaring the honk and flipping a truck off.  
It feels like taking his first bike for the first swing around the block after school, Tetsuo behind him, holding on for dear life and laughing into his ear the whole time.

Only that it’s far from his first swing and that he doesn’t know Tetsuo any longer.  
And no one is laughing.

 

Kaneda opens a door with a key and Tetsuo inhales the smell that comes out of the flat.  
Spicy, like that cup ramen with the chicken on the cup.  
Like the locker room at school, dusty and sweaty and a bit wet.  
Musky, like Kaneda’s red leather jacket.

Kaneda beckons him inside, unclasping his shoes already.  
Tetsuo doesn’t have shoes at the moment. He traded them for half a shot last week. His mattress for two full ones that brought him through the last three days.  
He’s running on fumes and he knows that he needs more soon.  
He can see it in the dangerous twists of his vision, the jittery tapping his fingers try against his dirty jeans. And the itch on the inside of his skin.

Kaneda hangs his jacket on a nail and Tetsuo hangs his on the nail next to it. The once white fur is grey and matted, there’s a tear at the shoulder he can’t remember getting.  
Tetsuo feels naked without the jacket.  
"Take a shower, man.“ Kaneda jabs a thumb deeper into the small flat and ducks under a half-length string curtain into the kitchen.  
The beads clacking together make Tetsuo shiver, the sound crowding his brain into a corner.  
He’s thirsty.

"I’m thirsty.“ He hasn’t heard his own voice this clearly in months. It sounds disgusting.  
Kaneda’s head pokes out between the bead-strings, jarring them again.  
"’Kay. Come inside at least. Water’s fine? I got only that or beer.“  
"Beer.“ Tetsuo sidesteps a stack of magazines that bare their teeth at him.  
"Right-o.“

The wet smack of a fridge door and then the clack of a bottle opener.  
Next thing that Tetsuo knows is that he’s standing on a rug, with a cold bottle in his hand. Kaneda eyes him from the couch, his own bottle clasped in both hands, hanging between his parted knees.  
Tetsuo wants to kneel at his feet and rest his sweaty forehead against the leather patches on the knees.

He drinks instead.  
Huge gulps.  
He hasn’t had alcohol in weeks. It tastes sweet and unassuming. Warm and welcome it spreads through his chest and buffers his bones from his skin.  
Tetsuo gasps air into his lungs and wipes beer from his lips, meets Kaneda’s eyes over his hand.  
"What?“  
It comes out harsh.

Kaneda shrugs, leans back and drains his bottle of beer with a few swallows.  
"Nothing.“ He burps. "You look like shit.“  
A pause. Tetsuo peels the label off his bottle and sticks it on upside down.  
"Smell like it too. Take a shower.“  
He sniffs his own arm. It doesn’t smell any different from usual. But he hasn’t smelled anything different in a long time either.  
Now he shrugs.  
Puts the bottle down on the littered table by Kaneda’s thigh and tries the two doors.

Pokes his head into Kaneda’s bedroom first. The curtains are drawn, casting a dark red gloom over white walls and a large bed. Dark sheets, posters on the wall.  
Tetsuo closes the door before the shadows start looming.  
The doorknob dissolves under his fingers and he wipes them on his pants.  
Tries the next door and is greeted by the clinic feeling of light blue tiles covering every inch of the bathroom.  
Kaneda makes a fanfare-sound from the couch, as if Tetsuo had just completed a difficult level in a game.  
"Asshole.“  
Kaneda laughs and Tetsuo flees the noise.

He doesn’t lock the door. It doesn’t even occur to him that it’s possible.  
Tetsuo just peels his dirty clothes from his dirty skin and steps over the rim of the tub. There is no shower, so he feels like it’s the right thing to do.  
But then he stands there, hands hovering over the knobs and two is too much.  
He can’t do it.  
"Kaneda.“  
The tiles are cold against his forehead and Tetsuo wants a beer, wants more, wants a shot, just so he can see them drip in front of his eyes.  
He wants out.  
He wants back.  
"Kaneda.“

A knock on the door.  
"Hey! Tetsuo, need some sweatpants or something?“  
Tetsuo turns around and breathes.  
"Kaneda!“  
More desperate than he wanted it to sound.  
The door flies open immediately and Kaneda’s face is scrunched up with something Tetsuo thinks could be worry.  
There’s a pair of black sweatpants clasped in his fist, the other hand ready to deflect a blow.  
Tetsuo’s head starts humming with pain.

"Do you like need something, man?“ Kaneda looks left and right, and colours swirl around his head. Reds and blues.  
Tetsuo reaches for them and just ends up touching Kaneda’s shoulder.  
Their eyes meet.  
For a moment Tetsuo feels high, as if a fresh shot had just hit.

"Sit down.“  
Kaneda’s voice forces the feeling away and Tetsuo grunts when the cold tub cradles his bones.  
He’s scared.  
Hot water beats down on his shoulders and head and he shouts, skin prickling.  
"Fuck! Too hot?“  
It stops as suddenly as it has started and Tetsuo is left reeling, mind trying to wrestle the influx of information.  
He grasps for Kaneda’s naked arm and holds on with both hands, burying his face in the soft t-shirt. It smells like sweat and laundry detergent.

"Are you crying, Tetsuo?“  
"I don’t know.“  
"I’m turning the water on again.“ Kaneda sounds weird, but the patter of water, not as hot this time, wipes Tetsuo’s mind clean again.  
Kaneda gently takes his chin and makes him lean back. Tetsuo still clings to his arm and stares at the dirty streaks he’s left on the grey t-shirt.  
They stare back.

He closes his eyes and feels himself fall, water drowning him and Kaneda’s strong, rough hand keeping him afloat.

 

Kaneda watches Tetsuo sit in front of the tub, wrapped in a towel. His hands had always been bony and slim.  
Now they look skeletal on the white cotton.  
"I’m a junkie.“ Tetsuo’s voice is still hoarse, even after a beer and swallowing gallons of water directly from the tap.  
"And I’m running low.“  
Kaneda sits on the toilet, hands buried in his pockets and chin resting on his chest.  
He’d guessed as much.

"You’ve always been interested in stuff like that.“  
Tetsuo looks at him sharply. „Stuff like what?“  
Kaneda shrugs and toes the sweatpants at his friend.  
Are they still friends, though?  
"Stuff that makes you leave. Stuff that’s not like reality. Unreal stuff. Like those movies and shit.“  
He shrugs again.

Tetsuo looks at the folds of the sweatpants and Kaneda wonders what he sees in them.  
He stands suddenly, legs stick-thin and belly hollow. He drops the towel in the tub and pulls the sweatpants on.  
They are too long and too wide. The string barely holds them on Tetsuo’s sharp hips.  
"Want to eat something?“  
It’s not what Kaneda had wanted to ask, but it’s not a bad question either.  
"Yeah.“ Raspy, desperate.  
Kaneda wants to feed Tetsuo until he stops looking so hungry.  
"Come on.“

They step out of the steamy bathroom and Kaneda sees Tetsuo shiver. Withdrawal or cold? He doesn’t ask.  
"I got cup ramen and microwave noodles and I think some burgers.“  
Tetsuo shrugs pointy shoulders and evades the string curtain entirely. Kaneda copies him, unsure why.  
He pulls the microwave burgers from the fridge and drops one on a plate. Sets the microwave to a few minutes and boils water.  
"You like the shrimp flavour right?“  
Tetsuo stands by the sink and stares at Kaneda with blank eyes. "I don’t know.“  
"Yeah, okay.“ Kaneda ignores the shiver running down his spine and pulls one shrimp one spicy chicken from the cupboard.  
The microwave dings just as he finishes pouring the water.

Kaneda opens it without looking and closes the lids of the cup ramen. Hands the plate to Tetsuo with a grin.  
"Eat up, Skinny.“  
Tetsuo laughs sharply again. "Fatso.“  
But he devours the burger with a few bites.  
Kaneda fixes himself one and watches Tetsuo lick the plate and his fingers clean.  
Watches him eye the cup ramen.

He opens the microwave before it can ding and lifts his burger off the plate.  
"You can eat the shrimp one, Tetsuo. Don’t need to wait for me. Chopsticks are in the sink. Just rinse ’em.“  
Tetsuo touches the cup and runs his fingers around the lid, face caught in a faint smile, as if he sees something else.  
There are obviously some kind of drugs in his system.

Kaneda licks sauce off his fingers and pops the lid of his own cup ramen. Stirs it once with his chopsticks and migrates to the couch.  
"You coming along?“  
Tetsuo scrambles to grab a pair of chopsticks and almost spills ramen over his fingers in his chase.  
Kaneda says nothing and sits in his usual spot.  
Tetsuo sits on the rug and tucks his feet under an abandoned t-shirt. Goosebumps cover his arms.  
"Put it on, you look like a chicken breast.“  
Tetsuo stops slurping ramen for as long as it takes to pull the t-shirt over his head and resumes right after.

Kaneda turns the TV on and puts his feet on the couch table. The two additional empty bottles vanish in the overall untidyness.  
He yawns and drinks the broth from the cup.  
Tetsuo mutters something, but when Kaneda looks down, his eyes are stuck on the people running through the screen, fleeing some kind of wildfire.

Half the movie later Tetsuo has stopped muttering and Kaneda has pulled off his pants, boxers far more comfy than the re-inforced jeans he likes to wear on the bike.  
By the time the credits run Tetsuo presses his forehead to Kaneda’s naked knee and breathes against the skin.  
His restless fingers are picking at his cracked lips.  
Kaneda doesn’t know what to do.  
He stares down at Tetsuo’s tousled hair.  
After washing it twice the water had finally run clear.  
Kaneda hadn’t combed it.  
It’s exactly the shade it is on the picture he keeps in his wallet.  
The whole gang on the last day of school. Kaneda and Tetsuo up front, grinning like they were the kings of the world.

Kaneda sighs and looks at the TV again. Commercials are running, blaring nonsense through the living room.  
Outside a child cries and a car horn splits the world for a breath.  
Tetsuo jerks violently, as if the sound had gone off in his head.  
Unthinking Kaneda cups the back of his head in a hand and rubs his thumb through the hair, massaging the dry scalp.  
"Just a car, Tetsuo, chill.“

And as if he’d found the magic words Tetsuo melts against his leg, breath spilling over Kaneda’s skin once more.  
Kaneda holds his breath, hand still stroking Tetsuo, heart working double time in his chest.

Had Tetsuo always been like this? Or is it the drugs that had changed him?  
Made him like this, like a nervous dog, desperate for some kindness.  
Something stirs in Kaneda, something he had thought had left with Kei at the beginning of the year.  
He wants to help Tetsuo, wants to help his oldest friend.

He switches channels when the commercials end to the opening song of a soap.  
In the end they watch some show about a gang of high-schoolers, Tetsuo’s breath on Kaneda’s leg and Kaneda’s hand in his hair.  
By the time the credits roll it’s dark outside and Kaneda’s half sure Tetsuo has fallen asleep. His hair is thouroughly finger-combed and he looks young, so terribly young.  
Kaneda swallows and gently pulls his fingers out of Tetsuo’s hair.

Their eyes meet over Kaneda’s thigh.  
"Hey.“  
Tetsuo blinks.  
"I’ll get you a blanket and you can sleep on the couch, yeah?“  
Tetsuo nods.  
"I’m running low. You got some pills, Kaneda?“ His voice is hoarse and his face is sweaty.  
Kaneda rubs a hand over the back of his neck.  
He’s in over his head.  
"Wait a moment, I’ll check.“

He hasn’t taken some in years, probably, but the last time he did there had still been a handful in the bag. Only where’s the bag?  
Tetsuo’s eyes follow him and Kaneda lets his bedroom door hit the wall.  
The light flickers on a moment after he flicked the switch and Kaneda uses the time to cross through the room.  
Opens his closet and grins at his old leather.  
It still fits, but he’s too old for a unitard.

He slips a hand into the pocket and finds lint. Next pocket gives him a crushed cig. The chest pocket an expired ticket from some fair or other.  
The pocket on the sleeve bulges and Kaneda touches it. It crinkles familiar.  
He opens the zipper and pulls the bag out.  
Red and blue pills roll against each other. There’s at least two dozen. And Kaneda remembers what he payed for them.  
His laugh sounds hollow to his own ears.

There’s a soft sound from the door.  
"Did you find them?“  
Tetsuo is almost in the room, cold toes on the threshold, hands clenched around the frame. He drowns in Kaneda’s clothes.  
"Yeah. Have them right here. Forgot all about them.“  
Tetsuo scoffs and steps into the room. "Typical. You never really needed them.“

A thin hand swipes for the bag and Kaneda lifts it out of reach with a blank mind. His heart seizes at the idea of Tetsuo getting his hands on the bag.  
For a moment their eyes meet.  
For a moment all is calm.  
Then an unbelievable fury makes Tetsuo unrecognizable.  
Spittle flies from his snarl.

"Give them to me! You have no idea what they mean to me! You don’t need them, you never need anything! Why do you have anything when you don’t need shit, Kaneda?! Huh!?“  
He steps even closer to Kaneda, brittle nails tearing into Kaneda’s wrist in a second try to get the bag.  
Kaneda puts his free hand on Tetsuo’s narrow chest and pushes.  
He’s so light, so weak, that he has to stumble back.  
"Settle down, you fucking junkie!“  
"Fuck off, asshole! Give me the pills!“ His eyes are wide and crazy.  
Kaneda feels his heart in his throat.  
His palms shake with anger and fear at the same time.

"I won’t have you OD’ing in my flat, motherfucker, so settle the shit down or I’m throwing you out and you can fucking sell yourself out for some drugs, asshole! Your choice!“  
Tetsuo hisses and spits, clawing at the hand keeping him away.  
Kaneda can feel every thump of Tetsuo’s heart against his skin. It’s racing.  
"So that’s what you want, you sick fuck! That’s why you picked up good ol‘ Tetsuo when you saw him sitting there!“  
A kick aimed at Kaneda’s knee hits the closet instead. Tetsuo’s shoulder crashes into it next, and the rail gives.  
Crazy eyes glare at Kaneda from a heap of his clothes.

"If that’s what you want just fucking bend me over and get it done. I don’t give a fuck! Just give me some pills before you do it, asshole.“  
Tetsuo wipes spit from his chin and clambers to his feet on shaking legs.  
Kaneda stares at him.  
"What the fuck?“, he says, with feeling.  
Tetsuo scoffs and rubs his shoulder with twitching fingers. "You heard me, fag.“

The punch connects before Kaneda knows he has thrown it.  
Tetsuo crashes right back into the closet and stays down, cross-eyed and blood dripping from his nose.  
"Fuck!“  
Kaneda tosses the bag of pills at his bed and scrambles to Tetsuo’s side.  
"Shit, I didn’t mean that, Tetsu, I’m sorry, fuck.“  
He carefully touches the already bruising cheek he hit and checks Tetsuo’s breathing.  
Erratic, but without gaps.  
The bleeding’s already slowing to a trickle, but the damage is done.

"Fuck me sideways, I’m such a tool.“  
He carefully slips his arms under his friend (his friend, dammit!) and lifts him up with a muttered curse.  
"You’re too light, Tetsu. Nothing but skin and bones, prick. Don’t go around starting fights like that, crazy fucker.“  
Tetsuo’s head lolls and his eyes roll back.  
He’s still breathing. That’s good.  
Kaneda gingerly puts him down on his bed and pulls a tissue from the box on the nightstand to dab at the blood.  
It smears on Tetsuo’s skin and they both groan for very different reasons.

"Never do this again, Kaneda, you gotta be the bigger man here, no matter what he throws at you, he’s sick. And fuck knows what he had to do to get his fixes and some food.“  
The tissue joins his brothers on the floor and Kaneda covers his face with his hands.  
"You’ve always been a hardy guy, Tetsu, but I guess you’ve got a rope that ends just like everybody else’s.“  
His fingers dive into Tetsuo’s hair again. Softer than a homeless guy’s hair should be.  
"Sorry, man. I’ll take care of it. I’ll fix it. Promise. I’ll help you.“

 

Tetsuo wakes with a pounding head, a sore throat and with sweat slick skin.  
He feels sick, ready to throw up his organs.  
With a groan he stretches his hand out and feels around for the blessed cold of the cracked concrete of his hide-away.  
His hand drops into nothing and his breath hitches, equilibrium slipping away and leaving him stranded without gravity.  
A strangled, hoarse scream tears at his sore throat and Tetsuo throws himself upright.

His heart pounds and he feels a new layer of sweat joining the one already plastering his clothes against his skin.  
His eyes flit around, world too sharp and clear and close. He doesn’t understand what he’s seeing.  
White walls, posters, a closet with a broken door and clothes on the floor.  
A ragged arm-chair by the bed, filled with a man.

Tetsuo looks at him and tries to decide if any of this is real.  
The man is wearing dirty socks, red boxers and a t-shirt with a stupid dinosaur on the front. It’s wearing a sweatband around its cartoon-head.  
The chin of the man is stubbly, dark circles under his eyes. His hair looks greasy, uncombed.  
Tetsuo knows his face better than his own.  
It has visited him often during highs and dry spells equally.

"Kaneda.“

It’s almost a sigh and Tetsuo touches the back of a socked foot. Smiles.  
It hurts, twinges his cheek and he remembers the shock of a fist thrown into his face.  
Never stops being new.  
The foot under his hand stirs. The brown arms unfold from under Kaneda’s head.  
"Tetsuo?“ Sleep-heavy and ragged.  
And very much real.

Tetsuo jerks back, skin raw as if touching Kaneda has burned him. He feels his lungs constrict and can do nothing against the second scream that splits his head.  
"Woah, woah! Tetsuo! Chill!“  
Two warm, huge hands come down on Tetsuo’s shoulders and he sobs, shaking, trying to throw them off.  
But Kaneda has always been stronger.  
Tetsuo buries his head in his hands and shouts.

Stops for a second when Kaneda touches the back of his head with a careful hand.  
Then he throws up on the bed and Kaneda’s dinosaur.

The familiar taste burns his sore throat and Tetsuo wipes his mouth. Coughs.  
Kaneda’s staring at him, dumb-founded.  
"Eeew. Warn a fella, will you. Fucking gross, Tetsuo. Fucking gross.“  
Kaneda wipes his hands on the soiled sheets and Tetsuo watches.  
He knows the movement should drag colour, knows that Kaneda should be doused in reds and blues, dancing around him and in his face.  
But everything’s the bleak colour of sobriety.  
Tetsuo coughs again.

"Get up.“  
Kaneda grabs the back of his dirty t-shirt and pulls it off his chest, trying his best not to get vomit into his hair. It doesn’t work.  
He retches and Tetsuo spits vomit on the sheets. Balls his hands into the still clean parts he can reach.  
The dirty shirt is dropped in a puddle of vomit.  
The sound drags a sparkle of colour and Tetsuo blinks.  
"I said get up, Tetsu. I have to get the sheets off before it soaks in the duvet.“

Tetsuo nods and looks at Kaneda.  
He’s real.  
All of this is real.  
Slowly he gets his feet on the cold floor and stands on wobbly legs.

"Get in the bathroom and get water in the tub.“  
"Kaneda.“  
"Yeah, I’m here, I’m not leaving, chill. Go, please, Tetsu!“  
Nobody has called him Tetsu in years.  
Not since high school.  
Not since the Capsules.  
He swallows another mouthful of vomit and trudges into the bathroom.  
Spits into the sink and stares at the knobs by the tub.  
Two.  
He turns both and water sloshes down the drain. There’s a black rubber-stopper hanging from a chain.  
Tetsuo puts it into the drain and watches the water fill the tub.  
Leans close until he can hear it whisper.

"Stop drowning yourself in my tub and move it.“  
Kaneda has his arms full with the dark sheets from the bed and his face is a grimace that looks all kinds of painful.  
Tetsuo laughs and sits on the toilet. Kaneda drops the sheets in the water and groans.  
There’s vomit in his hair and on his chest.  
Something hot pulses in Tetsuo’s belly. It’s the wrong fluid, but that came unmistakably from Tetsuo.  
Kaneda has been marked.  
Kaneda grabs a washcloth from the shelf and holds it under the running water before wiping down his arms and chest.  
"No!“

Tetsuo jumps from his seat and tosses himself at Kaneda.  
They slip on the floor and land on the blue tiles.  
Tetsuo is sweating and shaking, holding Kaneda’s hand holding the washcloth. It’s warm and wet against his chest.  
Kaneda looks tired, pissed and something else Tetsuo doesn’t recognize on his face.  
"What’s it now, Tetsu? I’m not letting your fucking vomit dry on my chest. It’s gross as fuck.“  
"Don’t.“ Tetsuo touches the stubble on Kaneda’s chin and shivers at the feeling.  
He wants a pill to make this even better.

But he doesn’t want to get up and try to find them.  
He couldn’t have dreamed it up that Kaneda had dangled a bag of them before his nose.  
"Leave it.“  
"No.“  
Kaneda pulls his hand from Tetsuo’s grasp and starts wiping at his chest again.  
"I said stop!“  
Tetsuo balls a fist and it connects solidly with Kaneda’s cheek. Like last night, only the other way round.

Kaneda hisses and glares at Tetsuo. Tosses the washcloth at the tub where it hits water with a splash.  
Tetsuo has no time to feel hot and triumphant.

He feels wet engulf him, soaked cloth chokes him, wraps him up and he opens his mouth to scream.  
Water fills his lungs.  
Then he his yanked up again and Kaneda is shouting at him. His words are garbled, foreign, red and blue and Tetsuo inhales sharply.  
Coughs water, spits and coughs.  
The splash and spill of the water leaks colour, the tiles drip.  
It stops when Kaneda shakes him.

"Tetsuo!“

He looks at him.  
Tetsuo doesn’t recall Kaneda’s eyes being so sharp, so piercing.  
He feels naked, bare. His soul rests against his face, wanting to be ogled by Kaneda.  
"Kaneda.“  
Breathy, raw.  
Two hands are cupping his face.  
Water sloshes around his calves, sheets cling to his feet. He’s standing in diluted vomit and decides it’s better than sleeping in it.

"Tetsu, what the fuck happened to you?“  
Kaneda lets go of Tetsuo and turns the water off. There’s still vomit in his hair.  
Tetsuo picks it out with shaking fingers. Kaneda stays bent over, hands on the rim of the bathtub.  
"You left, Kaneda.“  
"I didn’t though. I never left. You just stopped coming, Tetsuo. Stopped answering my calls and texts. I went to your place and somebody else lived there. You were just gone.“  
"You left me alone. Dropped me for a better bike and a girl and that job in the garage.“

Tetsuo puts a hand on Kaneda’s brown back, right over the knobs of his spine.  
His skin is warm and soft.  
"I had nothing left but the drugs.“  
"Fuck, Tetsuo.“ Raw and broken. Kaneda shouldn’t sound like that and still.  
Tetsuo smiles.  
He deserves this.  
Deserves feeling bad for once in his life.  
"It’s your fault.“  
"Cut me some slack, asshole. I didn’t make you take the shitty drugs. I mean, didn’t stop you either, but I never forced your hand. I never forced you to do anything, Tetsu.“

Tetsuo swallows and lets Kaneda look at him from under his wet fringe.  
There’s less water in the tub than before. Seems the drain doesn’t shut completely with the stopper.  
"I wish you had.“  
"Shit. This is fucked up.“  
"That’s how it is on this bitch of an earth.“  
"Don’t meme me, bastard.“  
Tetsuo laughs and rubs the nape of Kaneda’s neck. It’s warm and sweaty.  
He doesn’t feel sick anymore.  
"I could really use a pill right now.“

"Fuck, me too, Tetsuo, me too.“  
Kaneda laughs without humour and stands straight. Clasps a hand around Tetsuo’s upper arm and smirks.  
"Fucked up, I tell you.“  
Tetsuo inhales and takes Kaneda’s face in both hands. It’s scary being sober.  
He hates being sober and feeling everything so clearly and sharply.  
Tetsuo doesn’t want to feel heat pierce every cell of his body when Kaneda looks at him like that.

Like he’s still precious under all the grime and dirt and lies and hurt.  
Tetsuo doesn’t want to cry.  
He still does.  
He also smiles.  
Tetsuo wants to say "I love you.“  
He doesn’t.

What he says is "And whose fault is that?“ and lets himself be lifted out of the tub.

 

_Epilogue - or something like that._

 

Kaneda touches Tetsuo’s hair and laughs faintly.  
Tetsuo looks at him over his shoulder and elbows him in the side. His joints are still sharp.  
"I thought you hated this show.“  
"I didn’t remember it being funny.“  
"You always had a shit sense of humour, Kaneda. Must be me rubbing off on you.“  
Tetsuo sounds fucking full of himself and Kaneda hates it.  
Shoves him off the couch and tolerates the kick to his shin with endless patience.

"Fuck off, Tetsu.“  
"Suck a dick, Kaneda.“  
"Get up here and I might.“  
The look on Tetsuo’s face will never grow boring and Kaneda laughs.  
Laughs until Tetsuo laughs too, hands wrapped around his ankles and eyes bright.  
Kaneda finds himself on the carpet not a breath later.

"I fucking hate you, Tetsuo. Motherfucker.“  
"No, you don’t.“  
He rolls his eyes and spreads his arms, Tetsuo sitting down on his stomach and wedging his knees into Kaneda’s armpits.  
"Don’t sound so sure, prick.“  
Tetsuo blushes and crosses his arms. He’s spectacularly bad at saying anything emotional when he’s sober.  
"You love me.“  
He looks like a petulant kid that’s being forced to forsake their favourite super hero.

Kaneda can’t help but laugh.  
It’s worth the punch to his sternum.  
He wheezes "I love you“ and is treated to a kiss.

And really, it could have gone worse than that.


End file.
